


Something In The Wine

by whisper_norbury



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Dale - Freeform, Drinking, Drunken Confession, Engagement, Erebor, Everybody Lives, F/M, Figrid - Freeform, Five Years Later, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Love, Marriage, Princess - Freeform, Royalty, Wine, drunk dwarf, implied kiliel, older sigrid, proposal, rebuilt dale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper_norbury/pseuds/whisper_norbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is truth in wine -- and also in ale and mead. And when Fíli enjoys a bit too much of all three at the fifth anniversary of the refounding of Dale, he lets that truth come out to Sigrid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something In The Wine

Sigrid leaned her elbows on the stone table, smiling softly as she watched Fíli tap his finger on his empty goblet -- once for each ale he remembered drinking that evening.

"One... two... three... no, wait... that one wasn't ale, it was..." Fíli snapped his fingers, then pointed at Sigrid. "Yes! That _was_ ale!"

"It was _mead_ ," the young Woman said.

"Yes! That's right!" He looked across the table to where Tauriel was sitting next to Kíli. "Number five was... no, number _four_ was the wine _you_ brought..." he said, pointing at the Elf.

Kíli sat back in his seat and let out a quick laugh. "Enough, enough!" He shook his head so hard that he nearly fell over. "It doesn't matter how many you've had, when you can't even count to five!"

"Oh, he's had much more than _five_ ," said Sigrid, her smile widening.

Fíli shrugged and waggled his finger at Tauriel. "It was a bad idea inviting the Elves," he said, laying his head down on his folded arms. "They never tell you if what they brought is the strong stuff..."

Sigrid shook her head lightly, then looked around. This year had seen a great influx of Dwarves from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, and so the celebration for the fifth anniversary of the refounding of Dale had been greater than any of the previous ones; and though much of the crowd had by now dissipated, there were still plenty of Elves, Dwarves, and Men lingering in the Hall. 

This was also first year Sigrid had attended the celebration on her own, as her father had some important business away East, and Bain--being left in charge of Dale in his absence--had opted to keep his wits about him and left the party early. At first, Sigrid had feared that would mean that she would have to keep a close eye on Tilda, to make sure she did not get into any mischief, but the girl had decided to spend the night helping with the children of the Dwarves who were in attendance, and so Sigrid had found herself free to take part in the festivities.

And it _had_ been quite festive. There had been music and dancing and a great bonfire; and stories had been told in deep, booming voices as the Dwarven tellers stomped their ways across the stone tables. There was much food, much drink, and a few friendly fist-fights that had ended each time with the combatants embracing one another and calling for another round.

Now, though, the night was growing old, and most of the celebrants had either wandered off to their quarters or had fallen asleep where they sat -- some with their faces on the tables, and others with their heads hanging over the backs of their chairs, while still others had slipped entirely under the tables and were curled up and snoring happily on the floor. A very few were still awake and drinking, though the wine and ale had been flowing slower over the past hour or so.

Sigrid was getting tired by now, herself, though she had not had anything to drink for the entire evening. She never did much care for drinking, especially in crowds; and though Fíli would always offer her a first glass when they were together at some social function or other, he would never press the matter after she told him _no_. Tonight had been no different, and Fíli had at first only sipped at his own drinks as he and Sigrid spoke idly about such things as the restoration of their reclaimed homes and how their families were doing; and after a few ales, Fíli had described to her some of the Dwarven art that had been uncovered in the deeper delvings, while she told him about the fresh discoveries her own people had made while excavating the older corners of Dale.

The subjects they spoke about were much the same as every other time they had gotten together in recent months, though that never seemed to happen often enough for Sigrid's liking. She had, at least, been allowed to go to Erebor for cultural studies every few weeks. She always looked forward to that -- both for the learning, and for the fact that Fíli always set himself up as her escort and guide. It was good that he did so, as she found navigating the twisting tunnels of the Dwarven kingdom difficult; and on the rare occasions when he would come to Dale, she would return the favor by serving as _his_  guide.

It had been so this morning, in fact, which was now a far-distant memory since the long party had blurred the time in her mind. She had helped him settle into one of the guest rooms in the Great House and they had then walked to the celebration together; but though Fíli had begun the evening easily, he was, by now, stumblingly drunk.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled; then he lifted his head and reached across the table, patting Tauriel on the arm. "Sorry! Your wine was great... really..."

The Elf smiled softly. She had taken as much drink as Fíli and Kíli, but did not seem any the worse for it. "It was not my idea to bring it. It was my king's gift for the celebrations, since he was unable to attend."

"Oh..." Fíli lowered his head to the table once more. "I take it back, then... I think Thranduil's trying to kill me..."

Kíli let out a quick laugh. "Alright, then, Brother!" he said, rising unsteadily to his feet and leaning on the back of his chair for support. "Let's get you to your room and you can die _there_... or, at the least, you'll wish you had when morning comes!"

The chair Kíli was leaning on fell suddenly backwards, taking him down with it; and on his way to the floor, the Dwarf's hand hit the empty tankard that had been sitting in front of him. It flew across the table and bounced off Fíli's arm; and the elder prince lifted his face and looked around with widened eyes. Sigrid glanced under the table, and there saw Kíli lying on his back with his arms held straight up in the air. Tauriel reached down and pulled him to standing, and Sigrid sat back up.

"Is he alright?" the young Woman asked, though she was having a hard time containing her amusement.

Tauriel stood and wrapped her arm around Kíli, who smiled up at her. "I don't think that he will be much help in getting his brother to bed."

"I need no help," said Fíli, sitting up as straight as he could manage. "I know the way well enough..." His voice trailed off and he leaned over and rested his head on Sigrid's shoulder. "...No... I'm going to stay here."

Tauriel grinned at Sigrid, who shrugged as best she could with the Dwarf's head on her shoulder.

"Have a good rest, then," said Tauriel. "Wherever that rest may take place."

"G'night!" added Kíli, then he gave them a little wave as Tauriel turned him towards the Hall's great stone arch.

Within a few seconds, they vanished into the darkness beyond the door; and Sigrid pressed her lips together in a tight smile and tapped Fíli on the top of the head.

"You are a bit heavy," she said.

When he did not respond, she pulled away suddenly and he fell forward, stopping himself just before his head could hit the table. He blinked hard a few times and cleared his throat, then he scratched the bridge of his nose looked over at Sigrid.

"Yes?" he said. "What's wrong?"

She snickered. "Alright then, _Your Highness_ , time for bed."

He nodded, though it looked to her to be more like a bow that failed halfway through. "By your word, _Princess_ ," he returned, pulling himself to his feet.

Sigrid stood and crossed her arms defiantly. "I am not that yet," she scolded, "as you well know."

Fíli tilted his head to the side and had to quickly right himself when his body seemed to want to follow. "I know... though someday you will not be able to deny it..."

She took him by the arm and led him, swaying, towards the arched doorway. "Perhaps not," she said, steering him around a pair of sleeping celebrants that had not quite made it out of the Hall. "But I will deny it every day until then."

They stepped out onto the street and he turned to her and grinned. "Well, thank you for a lovely evening... I'm sure I'll wish I could remember it tomorrow..." He bowed low, nearly pitching forward as he did; then he stood back up and looked down at the cobblestone road. "Where was I to stay again?"

"The Great House."

"Right! Yes! ...And where was that?"

"Come along," she said, taking him by the arm once more. "Up the Redway, left at the top, then down the stairs."

Sigrid turned to the side and began leading him up a low hill to the right. They made their way up the incline for a few minutes in silence, then he turned his eyes to the Woman and smiled softly.

"You should, perhaps, get used to being called _princess_ ," he said. "When your father is made king, there will be no escaping that word."

"Easily said by someone who has always been royalty."

He stopped walking and tilted his head at her. " _You_ have always been royalty. You just didn't know it."

"I suppose," she said with a slight shrug. "But if you had spent your life believing yourself to be nothing more than a bargeman's child, would you be comfortable with being called a _prince_?"

"I may have known I had royal blood when I was growing up," he said as he began to stumble forward again, "but I spent many days in the mines and at the forge before we set out East... so while they used the word for me, I never really _was_ one..."

Sigrid nodded. She remembered being surprised when he had told her that the first time, after she had confessed to him that she did not think that she would do well as _nobility_  because of her own upbringing. She had begun to look at him differently then, understanding where he had come from and the difficulty he'd had in getting to where he now was in life -- though that had not made her feel any more worthy of bearing a title, herself.

"But still, you knew who you were from the beginning," she said.

Fíli reached over and patted her hand where it was wrapped around his arm. "You know _who_ you are," he said. "Though maybe for a while you didn't know _what_ you are..."

"And what is that?"

"A _princess_."

She punched him playfully on the arm. He laughed and stepped to the side a bit, but they kept on their course and soon came to a landing with a large, though dry fountain at the center. The Dwarf pulled his arm gently away from the young Woman and made his way to it, then he ran his fingers along the stonework before turning and sitting on the edge. He looked up at the clear sky and a soft smile rose to his lips.

"It's nice seeing the stars again at night..." he said. "I never get out much anymore."

Sigrid sat down next to him and placed her hands on her knees. "I thought Dwarves preferred dark tunnels to open air."

"Oh... no. I mean, _yes_ , they do..." he said, then leaned back a bit and squinted at the sky. " _We_ do. It's just... the stars look the same all over. In the Blue Mountains... they look the same. They remind me of home."

She turned her eyes up, as well. "Yes, I suppose they..."

Before she could finish, she saw Fíli's arms flail, then he slipped back, grabbing her by the sleeve of her dress as he fell. She landed hard on her back inside the fountain; and after taking a few seconds to recover the breath that had been knocked out of her, she turned her head towards Fíli. He was still staring at the sky, and after a moment he lifted his hand and pointed up.

"Look at that one..." he said, going on as if he hadn't fallen at all. "That star  _right_ there. The other stars move, but that one is always, _always_ in the north... all the other stars move around it."

Sigrid tried to look at where he was pointing, but his finger was shifting back and forth. "Yes, it sure is lovely," she said flatly, then she pulled her legs off the edge of the fountain and sat up. "But I think we should get you to your chamber so you can lie down."

"I _am_ lying down..."

"And when you wake up here in the morning, you will be as stiff as the stones you're lying _on_." She struggled to her feet, then grabbed him by the hand. "Up you get!"

Fíli grunted as he pulled his legs down off of the side of the fountain, then he shifted his hand around and gripped her wrist. Working together, they just managed to get him onto his feet, but when he tried to step over the fountain's edge, the toe of his heavy boot caught on it and and he fell, landing on his chest and face on the road. Sigrid gasped and hopped over the side, reaching down for him, but he had already pulled himself up onto his knees and was rubbing his forehead.

"I think... yes I might have had a bit too much to drink tonight," he mumbled.

She kneeled and examined the lump he had just put on his brow. "You may have, at that," she said, touching her fingers gently around the small wound. "At this rate, you will not make it to your room before dawn."

He reached up and took hold of her hand, pulling it down from his face. "No, I'm not quite that... well, yes..." He smiled crookedly at her. "I'm fairly bad-off..."

"More than _fairly_ ," she said. In truth, she had never seen him quite this drunk; though she was happy, at least, that he did not get belligerent and combative, as some folk she knew tended to. "But do you suppose you can get your legs to work well enough to make it to the Great House?"

Fíli touched the lump on his forehead and winced, though a smile was on his face. He lifted his eyes to Sigrid. "I wanted to tell you something," he said, letting go of her and climbing awkwardly to his feet. "But I'm not going to just yet..."

Sigrid stared after the Dwarf as he wandered a few steps away, then she jumped up and ran to his side. "Tell me," she said, her curiosity piqued.

He shook his head, turning in a circle, as if he was looking for something. "No... you'd remember, and I mightn't, and that wouldn't be quite fair..."

"I'll remind you of it in the morning," she told him.

Fíli stopped turning around. "No... it's alright..." He tugged absently on the end of his mustache. "Is this is the end of the Redway? Where are the stairs?"

She let out a long breath, then stepped behind him and placed a hand on either of his shoulders, aiming him up the hill. "You're halfway to the top. The road ends _that_ way."

"Yes, it does," he agreed, then he began walking again.

His progress was somewhat slower than before, and Sigrid slipped her arm around his back, urging him on. He cleared his throat and slung his arm up over her shoulder, then quickly lowered it again.

"Sorry..." he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"It's fine," she told him; and when he looked over at her with uncertainty, she added: "Really, it is."

He placed his arm over her shoulder once more, then faced forward as they shuffled along. "You know, you're..." His voice trailed off.

"I'm what?" she pressed.

"...You're nice to be around."

The young woman chuckled and shook her head. "Was _that_ what you were afraid to tell me?"

They came to a wide, flat area at the top of the incline and stopped again. There was a tall wall surrounding the space, except where the road led in and two stairways went down -- one to the left, and another to the right. Straight ahead, the wall was solid, and there was a low stone bench butted up against it. Fíli slid his arm off Sigrid's shoulder, then walked over to the stairs on the left and looked down; but he seemed to think better of trying to descend them just yet, and instead shifted around to the bench and sat.

He looked up at Sigrid as she drew near. "I didn't say I was afraid to say it," he told her. "I just said I _wasn't_ going to say it..."

"And yet, you _did_ ," she said, smiling.

The Dwarf scratched the back of his head. "Well, that I blame on the wine... and the ale and mead..." He took her gently by the hand and guided her to sitting beside him. "I suppose all of them at once... it brings things out that really shouldn't be said..."

Sigrid squeezed his hand and shrugged. "Thinking that I'm nice to be around doesn't seem like such a secret that you should be ashamed to say it. I enjoy your company, too."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then held her hand to his chest. "How much?"

His hold on her was pleasant and unexpected, and she wondered just how he could be so drunk, yet still so gentle. She tried to answer him, to tell him that she enjoyed spending time with him more than she did with anyone else; but the breath caught in her throat, and even after clearing it, she could not speak.

"I like it when you come to Erebor," he said, rubbing his thumb lightly across her fingers. "I like it when we can talk and... and _complain_ about... things. I suppose there's plenty of my own folk that I could speak with, but... I wish you could come there more often."

"Perhaps I can arrange that," she said, though her voice was so low that she could barely hear herself. "I'm sure my father would not object to me taking some time away from my studies here for more lessons at the Mountain."

He kissed the tips of her fingers softly. "I would like that."

Sigrid's eyes widened slightly and her mouth fell open; and Fíli drew his eyebrows together and let go of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, standing quickly. He wobbled a bit, then started walking towards the stairs that led to the Great House. "I should get to bed..."

She watched him for a moment, then looked at her hand and rubbed her thumb across her fingers where his soft lips had touched. At once, she realized that he was nearly at the head of the stairs and she jumped to her feet and rushed after him, then stepped to his left side and linked her arm with his.

"That was it, then?" she asked, feeling a bit dizzy as she looked down the dimly-lit steps. "You didn't want to tell me that you wished I could come to Erebor more often?"

There was no railing on the stairway, though tall walls rose on either side; and so Fíli slid the fingers of his right hand along the rough stone. "No, that wasn't..." He glanced at her, then drew his hand off the wall and rubbed his sore forehead. "Do you know why I call you _princess_?"

"Because you like to tease me?"

"Because you should be one."

"Well..." Sigrid moved her head a bit, though she herself could not tell if it was a nod or if she was just trying to keep her balance on the steep and ill-lit steps. "In a few years, when my father is coronated..."

"I'm not saying..." he cut her off, then he turned his eyes to the sky. "Whether your father is coronated or not, you should be one... I _want_ you to be one..."

Heat rose into her chest. "What do you mean?"

Fíli smiled and looked over at Sigrid, but as he did, he tilted away from her and his right shoulder hit the wall. His sleeve caught on a jutting stone and he lost his footing; and though the young Woman pulled back on him in an effort to keep him from tumbling down the stairs, his legs still came out from under him. He landed on his back, and she drew her arm away as he began to slide down, then she lifted the hem of her skirt and ran after him.

They had already been near the foot of the staircase, and so the Dwarf did not have far to fall; and as Sigrid got to his side, he pulled himself to standing and stumbled in the direction of a large stone pedestal that had once held a grand statue atop it. He tripped over his own feet on the way, and Sigrid grabbed him before he could fall again, then she turned him around until he was leaning back against the pedestal.

He chuckled and shook his head, but the shake turned into a vigorous nod, and he reached out and wrapped his arms around Sigrid, pulling her into a hug. Though she was a bit surprised at first, she returned the embrace and laughed softly; and a few seconds later, Fíli's hold on her loosened. She stood back and watched his head bob even as he stared into her eyes, then he reached up and brushed a few straggling hairs out of her face.

"Someday I'm going to ask you to marry me..."

Sigrid's cheeks began to warm. "You... _what_?"

At once, he seemed to realize what he had said, and he lowered his hand and slid around her, turning towards the Great House on the far side of the courtyard. He did not make it more than a couple steps, though, before he stumbled back, then he lowered himself to sitting on the ground and leaned his head against the pedestal as he stared up at the sky.

Sigrid sat down beside him and placed a hand on his arm. "Why would you want to marry _me_?"

He jerked his shoulder in half a shrug. "I could tell you that I think you're beautiful... but that isn't it." He looked over at her with a tight smile on his lips. "I mean, you _are_  beautiful... but even if you weren't, it it's just that... well, you're _you_." 

"And what is so special about _me_?"

"You're just... you're..." Fíli pulled his knees up to his chest and looked down at the ground. "When I think of something I want to do, I think about doing it with _you_..." he said. "When I hear a joke, I want to tell it to you... when I don't feel quite like myself, I think that being with you will bring me back to _me_..." He turned to her once more. "...Does that make any sense?"

Sigrid pressed her hand against her chest, feeling her heart as it now beat hard and fast. She wanted to tell him that she felt the same way, that she was always happiest by his side; but she could not make the words come, and so she instead bit softly on her lip and nodded.

"It does, yes," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "That's what friends do, isn't it?"

He shifted his eyes down and away. "Yes, they do," he said softly. "But I have many friends... and I miss them when we are apart, but it does not then feel as if they have taken a piece of me with them... as it does when you are away from me..."

Her eyes began to blur. "Why would you tell me this _now_?"

Fíli rested his head on her shoulder. "Perhaps it was something in the wine."

"Are you sure, then, that you really feel this way?" asked Sigrid, rubbing her chin against his hair.

"You are asking if the drink is making me lie?" asked Fíli, his voice growing soft and distant. "...Ask me again in the morning, and my words will still be the same... I promise you, they will still be the same..."

His head grew heavier on her shoulder, and she sighed and looked up at the stars. 

"When is _someday_?" she asked.

He jumped, then settled back down. "Huh..?"

"You said that you would ask me to marry you _someday_ ," she said. "When will that be?"

"...I don't know... _someday_..." He took hold of her hand where it still rested on his arm. "...If you ever decide that you... if you would have me..." 

Fíli's breaths deepened and his grip on her hand loosened, and when she looked down she saw that his eyes were closed, though there was still a faint smile on his lips.

"I suppose we'll be sleeping here tonight," said Sigrid with a touch of humor. When he did not respond, she slid her arm behind his neck and pulled him closer. "Fíli?"

His head fell back against her arm and his eyelids fluttered. "Hmmm?"

"Someday, I might say _yes_."

"...But not today..?" he asked, just barely aloud.

"Not _tonight_." She brushed the hairs away from his face, then pressed her lips to his temple before resting her head back against the pedestal. "But maybe someday soon."

 

**Author's Note:**

> While this is not really relevant to the story, I'd like to mention that this was inspired by the way my own husband proposed to me twenty years ago :)


End file.
